


Tears Don't Stain

by turbo_cows



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Gen, Minor Character Death, hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is depressing, i likE WRITING RYUUHOU OK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4558500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turbo_cows/pseuds/turbo_cows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tears don't stain, that's why nobody's going to see<br/>The way I cry, cry for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears Don't Stain

**Author's Note:**

> A person can live up to two minutes, after they get stabbed.

A second, his blade feels like a kiss as it stabs my body. I fall hard on the ground, his eyes on me, and I almost feel the warmth of his panting as I look up at him. His veins look like they’re about to explode, his whole body is tensed, and I smile, loving the movement of his lungs expanding as he breaths.

Five seconds, I know I’m going to die. I feel tears burning in my throath, but I’m holding them back, I don’t want him to see me cry. As I raise my hands to my abdomen, I feel a warm, wet stain, and I smile, knowing it’s my blood that I’m feeling. There’s so much hatred in his eyes, but if this is the last time he’s going to see me, I don’t want him to see a weak me. I keep on smiling, doesn’t matter what’s going to happen.

Ten seconds, his gaze is locked upon me as he watches me slowly losing my senses. I don’t want to fight, my life is going to end in seconds, so why waste such a peaceful awareness? This started in blood and it’s going to end here, in a blood bath. My masterpiece, why did you do this? Fiveteen seconds, everybody left. It’s dark, and cold, and the blood staining my clothes is pooling on the ground. I look down, and as I see my skull necklace I giggle, thinking that soon enough I’ll be just like them, it’s just a question of time.

Twenty seconds, I think outside it started raining. I picture his dark hair wetting under the rain, his face relaxing as drops fall down his chin, his neck, his arms, water sparkling on his eyelashes. I picture his big hands running down his shoulders, as flowers bloom on his wide back.

Half a minute has passed, and I’m sure today is the last day I’m living on Earth. Well, it was a pleasure being killed by him, the only person I would ever give my life for. Seeing my masterpiece complete was what I wanted, and my wish has been granted. I wouldn’t have any other reason to live anyway.

Fifty seconds, I think I’m strong enough to stand up and walk outside. Even if I can’t focus my eyes, I understand what’s around me, so why not give it a try? Nobody wants to die alone, in a cold room, not even someone like me. Five seconds after, this elevator it’s moving so slow it’s almost like I’m standing still. When I reach the exit door, I smile, seeing that it really is raining.

A minute and ten seconds had gone, and I’m out, under the rain. I could ask for help, but why should I? I did everything I had to do to be happy in life, it would be a waste of time to live on. I rest my back against a wall, in the middle of a dead-end alley, and inhale the smell of rain, dust, concrete.

A minute and half, I feel numb. I slip all the way down to the ground, my back still against the wall, and feel my senses going dull. I can’t move my legs, and my hands feel frozen. Also my blood, before warm, is now cold and sticky. It looks dark, and I feel a knot in my stomach. I’m not sure I want to die, I’m too young for that. But it’s too late, I can’t stand up, my voice is raspy. I could try screaming, but what’s the point in that?

A minute and fourty seconds, I’m completely giving in, surrendering to the weakness I feel in my bones. My eyelids feel heavy, I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. My throath is burning, and I cough, spitting blood mixed with saliva on the ground.

A minute and fourty-five seconds, I let go. I feel the weight on my chest lighten as tears pool in the corner of my eyes. I feel them, warm, the only warm thing that’s left of my body, and I blink, feeling water stream slow down my pale cheeks. My tears taste salty when they creep between my lips, and I smile with my last strenghts, resting my head as my neck weakens.

A minute and fifty seconds, I’m crying. And I’m crying bitter tears, that I held back for so, so long. What am I crying for? Earth was not the right place for an angel like me anyway. I never cared about life, I never cared about myself. Then why, why am I crying? What would he do if he saw me here, cheeks pale and red eyes, what would he say? Would he laugh at me? Would he look at me as life slips away from my body?

A minute and fifty five, I don’t mind crying anymore. Tears are not like blood, they don’t stain. When they’ll find me here, lifeless, they’ll see my blood, but they’ll never know I cried. Nobody’s going to see how much I cried for him, how much I needed him, how much I wanted his lips to be gentle on my body. Nobody will ever know how many tears were on my cheeks when I’ll be snow white, when blue circles will embrace my eyelids. And nobody will ever know it was him. A minute and fifty eight, I’m dying. I can’t breathe. Summer will dry my tears, and it wil be like they never even were there. I hope he’ll be happy now, I hope he’ll know that he wasn’t wrong killing me. I hope he’ll go on with his life, I hope he will still think of me, and I hope, when he looks down at his hands, that he’ll wonder if the spaces between his fingers were meant to be filled by my hands. Because I know they were, we just never had time to prove it.

Two minutes.


End file.
